


As Easy As It Seems

by disorient_me



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Kaiju, Kid Fic, M/M, Slice of Life, Team Hot Dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:39:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disorient_me/pseuds/disorient_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Communication has never been one of the Hansens' strongest traits, and probably never will be.  Stacker Pentecost doesn't necessarily do much better, except when he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Easy As It Seems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kuro49](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/gifts).



> For Kuro49, for the prompt, "I would not say no to anything that has something to do with Stacker helping to raise Chuck."
> 
> I own nothing you recognize; all mistakes are my own, I beta'd this on my own, sorry!

 ~*~

“Can I see the blue one, then?”

Mako Mori nodded very solemnly, tiny fingers reaching out to pass the blue crayon across the table. Herc just granted her a soft smile, nodding to her before returning to the page she had given him a few minutes before. The scene should have looked ridiculous—Herc very studious about coloring in a cartoonish illustration while Mako swung her feet back and forth underneath the table—but it _didn’t_ , and it made something twinge in the center of his chest.

Sometimes, Stacker couldn’t help but be just a little jealous of how easily Hercules Hansen got along with Mako. Ever since he had adopted the young girl, she had always been so quiet and reserved around him. She was respectful and shy, full of curiosity and stunning intelligence, but at times he found himself feeling as if there was a deep gulf between them—one that didn’t seem to exist between herself and Herc. His friend had found some level of quiet connection with the little girl, which only highlighted the recent stress between Herc and his own son.

Pulling his gaze away, Stacker turned to look for Chuck. The eight year old was still outside, determinedly kicking a ball toward the net in the yard. He’d steadfastly refused to come inside with the rest of them, and Stacker hadn’t quite missed the flicker of pain on Herc’s face. Chuck still didn’t so much as glance at him when Stacker came back out. Instead, he kicked the ball that much harder toward the net. It ricocheted wildly off the goalpost, bouncing toward the steps of the deck. Stacker aborted his move to take a seat, instead stopping the ball with a firm foot.

Chuck’s gaze was narrow and guarded, but Stacker merely kicked the ball back to him. It had been years upon years since he had played football himself, but Chuck seemed to have taken a liking to the game. It had baffled Herc, since he had never played himself, but he’d gone with it.

Chuck stopped the ball, gauging Stacker for a long, long moment. Evidently, he passed whatever test it was, and the boy turned back to the net, allowing Stacker the chance to take a seat. For several minutes, he watched the boy’s rhythmic target practice, waiting for the next missed shot before interrupting.

“I take it you like the net here, then,” he said mildly, and Chuck’s expression darkened.

“’S stupid,” he muttered. “This whole house is stupid. Liked my old house better.”

Stacker tensed. It had been nearly six months since Herc and Chuck had moved here; Herc hadn’t been able to stand living in the old house after Angela’s death, haunted deeply by memories and nightmares alike. The new place had a bigger yard in addition to being closer to Stacker and Mako. The four of them had spent quite a bit of time together before the move, and the new location made it easier for everyone. Chuck had been sullen and angry even before the move, his resentment manifesting in how he retreated from Herc’s advances. Stacker could only watch as his old friend hurt—and yet never reached out to his son.

“You like the football team here, though,” Stacker observed, and Chuck huffed.

“’S all right,” he gritted out, lashing out at the ball. The ball rolled wide, and Chuck stalked after it. Still angry, he kicked it back toward the front of the net, and Stacker rose to stop it. Chuck’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but Stacker was silent as he passed the ball back. Chuck hesitated, still glaring at him dubiously—then passed the ball back. The pass was a little sloppy, testing him, but Stacker said nothing. He shifted to the side to receive the pass, then returned it. The boy was silent, but that was okay; they didn’t really need words to simply kick the ball back and forth.

~*~

“You make it look so easy, you know,” Herc muttered, leaning heavily on his elbows. Stacker blinked, thrown off. Herc just huffed a little sigh, shaking his head. “Gettin’ along with him. Kid never wants anything to do with me when I try to kick the ball around a bit.”

He just shook his head, dropping his forehead into his palm. Exhaustion was heavy in every line of Herc’s body, military posture slumping against the counter as he stared at his beer bottle. Stacker didn’t know how to respond, and Herc just closed his eyes.

“He’s angry,” Stacker finally murmured, finishing his own beer. The kids had fallen asleep in the living room during the movie (something about princesses and a talking snowman), giving Herc and Stacker the chance to retreat to the kitchen. It wasn’t uncommon for the four of them to have sleepovers, especially not after the Hansens had lost Angela. Herc had been an old friend, and Angela’s loss had left him reeling and broken. He’d tried to pull it together for his son, but even now, things were missing. Herc was still trying to pick up the pieces, and Stacker hated seeing the man this broken down and unhappy. Reaching out, he gripped his friend’s shoulder, thumb rubbing almost absentmindedly as he leaned in.

“He blames me, you know,” Herc said miserably, and Stacker tightened his grip.

“He’s a child,” he said gently. “He needs time to work things through. You are his father; he still needs you.”

“Stacks, he won’t even so much as look at me,” he scoffed. He took a hard pull on his beer, and Stacker found himself noticing the way the man’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Seemed to be getting on with you in the yard.”

Herc sounded almost betrayed by that, and Stacker shook off his momentary distraction.

“Herc,” he said firmly, leaning in closer. “He’s eight, and you’ve recently moved. Give him time.”

Herc nodded, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenched his jaw. Abruptly aware of how close he’d gotten, Stacker retreated, leaning back into his own seat. Herc just rolled his eyes and inched his chair closer. For a long while, neither said anything. From the living room, Stacker could hear the repetitive music of the DVDs menu cycling through, and wondered how long they had before either of the children woke. It wasn’t the first sleepover that Mako and Chuck had had, and Stacker was just grateful that the two of them got along. It was a relief to have the children hang out, giving Stacker the chance to support Herc when he needed it the most.

“We should turn that off,” Herc mumbled, but made no move to get out of the seat. “’Fore it wakes the kids up.”

“If they fell asleep during the movie, they’ll sleep through this, too,” he reminded him. “Remember, Chuck sleeps hard.”

“Right,” Herc agreed. His knee brushed against Stacker’s beneath the edge of the counter, the pressure more absentminded than anything else. Stacker didn’t react; he was more than used to how Herc preferred to let his action speak for him. The man had never been particularly eloquent, though he knew well enough how to make his point plain; now, though, Stacker wasn’t entirely sure what this was aiming at. Neither of the Hansens were particularly inclined toward physical contact, and much less so after Angela.

“Chuck has a game this Friday,” Stacker finally said, breaking the moment.

“Yeah, first one with his new team,” Herc grunted, and Stacker nodded. “Told me I didn’t have to bother comin’, y’know. He said he knew I hated footie.”

Stacker exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a long moment. The rift between the Hansens was painful to behold at times, and it wasn’t as if Stacker himself were an expert in parent-child relationships after all. Still, though, he offered, “Mako and I could come by, perhaps? Watch the match with you? I’m not certain how much Mako likes football, but…”

“She would watch,” Herc said, shrugging a little. Herc’s blue eyes looked a little more hopeful now, even as Stacker frowned to himself. Mako still hardly spoke to him at the best of times—had she actually spoken enough to Herc to know that? They’d come a long way from first responder-and-victim, but Stacker couldn’t help but feel betrayed. He’d worked hard to form a relationship with his daughter, but most of the time, he felt woefully out of place. Every so often, he got lucky and was rewarded with that same bright, pure smile that had graced her fact that first time, and it made his heart ache in a good way. He’d never expected to find the little girl alive in the aftermath of the multi-car pileup that had claimed her parents, but he would never forget that beautiful, awed smile that had crossed her face when he’d reached her.

“She said that?” He asked finally, unable to help himself—and Herc smiled tiredly.

“Didn’t have to, mate,” he said gently. “She was staring the whole time you were with Chuck out there. Mako couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

“She still hardly speaks to me,” he admitted wearily. He finished his beer, then said roughly, “She’s so quiet and well-behaved, but I don’t know how to reach her.”

“Don’t need to reach her, I reckon,” Herc said. His eyes were gentle and understanding as he shrugged a little. “Have you seen the way she looks at you? She _respects_ you, Stacks—not idolizing, like kids her age do, she actually respects you.”

“She hardly speaks any more than she did a year ago,” he murmured, and Herc nodded. The adoption process had been long and arduous, but Stacker didn’t regret any of it for one single second. Mako Mori had made an impact on him from the start, even if he wondered if there might have been someone better for her.

“She’s just quiet, ‘s all,” Herc told him. “Quiet, but smarter ‘n hell. Between her and my kid…”

“We’d be in for a world of trouble, should they decide to team up,” Stacker agreed, nodding. Both children were bright; they got on well enough, thankfully, but they were both dealing with their traumatic losses in different ways. Chuck had had nearly two and a half years since the loss of his mother, but Mako’s loss was much more recent.

“I’ll drink to that,” Herc said. Rising, he headed for the fridge, asking over his shoulder, “You?”

Stacker nodded, shifting in his seat. His leg was cold from where Herc’s had pressed against it, and he chalked the fact that he missed the warmth up to the late hour.

“So, for Friday, then, what time?”

~*~

Chuck E. Cheese must have been one of the levels of Hell Danté never made it to, Stacker was fairly sure. Between the crush of parents, flashing lights, screaming kids, horrible music, and the scent of greasy pizza, he had no idea how anyone over the age of six could possibly enjoy this.

“Relax already, would you?” Herc muttered, appearing at his elbow. Stacker merely glanced at him, and the other man raised both brows. “You look about ready to—”

“That was a long time ago,” Stacker interrupted, earning a knowing smirk. He sighed, then said, pained, “It’s so… _loud._ Do children really enjoy this?”

Herc’s expression was every bit as pained as Stacker felt, and the man shrugged. After Chuck’s game earlier, one of the other parents had offered to take everyone out for a pizza party afterward. There had been no way to gracefully bow out, not after Herc had caught sight of the look of longing on his son’s face—there and gone like a flash, but it had been there, and Herc had been powerless. It had been far too long since the boy had engaged in activities with others his age, and thus, here they were. Herc had given Stacker one single pleading look, and he’d imagined that leaving his old friend to go with the team alone would have been selfish. Only one hour later, though, he thought his sense of self-preservation might need some work.

On the other hand, however, Mako seemed to be enjoying herself. At first, he’d feared that she might have been overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity, but she had taken off with Chuck. She hadn’t strayed far from Chuck, but she had managed to accumulate a fair number of tickets thus far.

“I’ll remember this,” Stacker warned Herc. “Next time it comes time to convince Chuck that we are not watching that movie with the robots again, _you_ are explaining to him why that is.”

“You wouldn’t,” Herc accused. Stacker merely looked at him impassively, and sure enough, Herc frowned. “Don’t know why he loves that movie so much.”

Stacker shrugged. He started to make another comment, only to find himself interrupted by a yell from the side. The yell was different from the cheerful yelling and bellowing from the other children, enough so as to draw their attention immediately. As one, he and Herc turned. Neither of them were particularly surprised to find a small crowd forming around one of the games, Chuck and Mako in the fray. Another little boy—not one of the kids on the team, Stacker noted—yelled something at Chuck, causing the boy’s face to darken dangerously, his little jaw clenching. The two of them strode over quickly, just in time to catch the other kid reaching out—and Chuck lashed out.

“Oi!” Herc bellowed, reaching out in the nick of time. He plucked his son up by the back of his shirt, hauling him away. Chuck sputtered, eyes wide and cheeks flushed, and Herc silenced him before he could start. “This is over!”

“But he—”

Even as Herc dragged his son away, Stacker slid neatly into damage control. It had been some time since he and Herc had had to team up for a Situation, but even as a paramedic, Stacker was pleased that his presence and ability to control a scene hadn’t diminished. It took remarkably little time to calm the other children; not for the first time, Stacker found himself grateful for the relatively short attention span that children possessed. Thankfully, none of the other parents had caught the commotion. He wasn’t sure how he would explain Chuck’s behavior—not only was he not Chuck’s parent, but the other team parents only fleetingly knew him.

“Sensei?” Mako asked, finally catching his attention. Instinctively, he stroked her hair just once, and she looked up earnestly.

“Are you all right, Mako-chan?” He asked, and she nodded.

“Chuck—”

“Is with his father,” Stacker said soothingly. “He’s all right.” She still looked troubled, however, and he frowned. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nodded solemnly, hand sneaking into his. He masked his surprise, touched. Mako was strong and independent, normally preferring to leave signs of weakness or of affection for more private areas. He took it in stride, however, escorting his daughter out to the car. When they arrived, Herc was leaning against the back of the car, slumped with his forehead resting heavily in his palm. Chuck was in the back seat, chin tipped up, and Stacker frowned. Before he could even ask, Mako slipped away from him to get into the car. Herc didn’t move, however, and Stacker approached, concerned.

“Herc?”

“’S nothing,” he said tersely, line of his shoulders tight. Stacker just waited, and Herc sighed heavily. “Later. Let’s just get out of here.”

The ride home was silent and mercifully short. As soon as they reached the Hansen household, Chuck and Mako disappeared, leaving Herc and Stacker on their own. Stacker wordlessly poured them each a tumbler of scotch, pressing it into Herc’s hand.

“I’ve had enough, Stacker,” Herc finally said softly. “Told him that I’ve had enough of his anger and that he can’t go on lashing out at people just because he doesn’t like what they have to say.”

Stacker didn’t say anything, waiting him out. Herc still looked troubled, however, shaking his head slowly.

“I don’t understand it,” he murmured. “Chuck never used to act this way. Sometimes… sometimes I think he might be right.”

“Right about what?” Stacker asked, and Herc shrugged listlessly.

“Not a very good parent, am I?” He asked rhetorically, and Stacker looked over sharply. Herc looked so bitter and broken in that moment that it took his breath away, and Stacker was up and moving before he was aware he’d thought about it. Exchanging his seat on the chair for a space right next to Herc, he left only a handful of inches between them.

“You know that isn’t true,” he said gently. Herc’s eyes were guarded and dark, though, and Stacker forced himself to continue. He’d never been very good with comforting words, but damn it, he at least had to _try_. He couldn’t stand that look on his friend’s face, especially when he knew it wasn’t _true._ “Herc. You’re doing fine—it’s not an easy task, for either of us.”

Herc wordlessly toasted toward him at that, taking the rest of his scotch in one smooth motion. Stacker stayed quiet, watching as Herc reached for the bottle on the side table, pouring himself another round. He offered the bottle to Stacker, who passed for the moment. Herc just nodded, settling back into the couch, closer this time.

“We sure as hell make a pair, don’t we?” He asked, sighing. Stacker still didn’t know what to say to that, so he remained silent, nursing his own drink. Several minutes passed, Herc’s leg lined along his. The warmth felt comforting in a way, and Stacker slowly relaxed into it. It wasn’t until Herc had finished his second drink that the other man turned to him again. “You know I appreciate it, yeah? All your help, I mean. Mos’ people just left us alone after.”

“Where else would I be?” Stacker asked, words tripping off his tongue before he had even thought about it. Heat rose along the back of his neck at the unusually candid words, but it seemed to reassure Herc, that dark edge in his eyes fading slightly. Bolstered by the warmth of the scotch, Stacker pressed his knee more firmly against Herc’s. It was warm and firm, and he felt almost daring for seeking out such a form of contact. It felt good, familiar, even, and after a moment, Herc pressed back.

“You and your son don’t always make things easy, of course,” Stacker said after a moment. “Seems to run in the family, if I’m not mistaken.”

The remark earned a grin, then an exasperated smile. Herc chuckled slightly, then shook his head.

“Picking a fight with a stranger, though,” he murmured. “Had hoped we were raising him better ‘n that.”

It wasn’t until later that the word ‘we’ even registered in Stacker’s mind. It was innocuous, surely, a simple turn of phrase, and yet it stuck in Stacker’s mind for days. He’d never really given it much thought, but now, even the smallest of things stuck out to him. For years, Stacker Pentecost had contented himself with believing that he would never be a father; he firmly believed that he had no place being a parent, and that he would instead be the uncle who secretly spoiled the hell out of Luna and Tamsin’s children when they settled in. Even watching Herc’s obvious pride and love for his son had always seemed more like a far-off connection, and yet… here they were, raising their children together.

Things shifted. Suddenly, he couldn’t help but consider it differently when he turned the idea over in his mind. More often than not, they were in one another’s company; Stacker had long since figured out what sorts of meals the kids liked best and how to balance them with nutritious foods, and Herc was in charge of laundry after Stacker had accidentally bleached Mako’s favorite shirt. They traded off picking Chuck up from football; Stacker helped with homework assignments while Herc fixed toys and broken appliances. There were articles of clothing from each other at one another’s homes, and it… wasn’t exactly unwelcome.

He and Hercules Hansen were raising their children together. The realization went a long way toward settling something within Stacker that he hadn’t even known was tense.

~*~

Breakfasts with Mako were normally quiet affairs. The two of them were quiet and reflective in their own ways, and Saturday mornings were something of their own tradition. Weekday mornings were often rather more rushed, but Stacker reserved Saturday mornings for just the two of them. By silent agreement, they never spoke of school or work, instead focusing on other topics; sometimes, they ate silently instead. As such, it took Stacker longer than he liked to acknowledge that Mako’s silence was different than normal.

“Is something bothering you, Mako-chan?” He asked gently. She looked up from her food, then back down almost as quickly. Stacker waited patiently, refusing to pressure her. Mako would speak what was on her mind when she was ready, and he admired her ability to reason things out and think things through. It wasn’t a skill many children her age had developed yet, but Mako was far ahead of the curve. He had finished his breakfast by the time Mako finally looked up, brow furrowed slightly.

“Is Chuck in trouble?” She asked, and Stacker hesitated. Herc had never really mentioned his plans for dealing with the situation, and he hadn’t asked.

“I’m not sure,” he allowed, and Mako looked troubled now. She was quiet for several minutes, then looked up again.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly. He paused, frowning just a little, and she tipped her chin up. “Chuck didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Mako,” he said slowly, warningly. “He started a fight with another boy. That is not how we deal with problems; it is Hercules’ decision on how he deals with that.”

“But—”

“No, Mako,” he said firmly. “We control our own actions; Herc will deal with Chuck.”

Mako fell silent, but Stacker wasn’t blind. He could see the unhappiness on her face, and steeled himself. He disliked reprimanding her, of course, but wasn’t that what Luna had warned him about? Parenting was sometimes about doing the things he disliked most? He’d _known_ that, of course, but it never made it easier to face Mako’s clear disappointment. She hardly responded to him aside from single-word replies the entire way over to the Hansens house. When they arrived, the haggard look on the elder Hansen’s face immediately alarmed Stacker, though Herc waved it aside.

“Chuck has until 3 to finish weeding the back yard,” he said, shrugging. “Sorry, Mako. We can, ah, still watch a movie or something—”

“I want to help,” Mako announced. Stacker tensed, and Herc blinked in confusion.

“Ah, what?” He asked, and Mako met his gaze impressively evenly.

“I want to help Chuck,” she repeated primly. Before either could comment, Mako was gone, leaving Herc to stare after her.

“Is it missing the point of grounding him if she helps him?” He asked, stunned. “Pretty sure that’s… not how it works.”

“She was protesting his grounding earlier, too,” Stacker mused, frowning. “Did you speak with Chuck?”

Herc snorted, exasperation hiding his faint hurt.

“Might’ve had better luck speaking to the wall here,” he said, gesturing expansively at the wall. “Chuck wouldn’t calm down long enough to actually speak to me. Hell, you should see his room. He tore it to pieces when I told him to knock it off.”

Stacker frowned. Chuck was never needlessly destructive, and tearing his room apart just didn’t sound right. For all his issues with his temperament, Chuck never destroyed things; if anything, he took after his father. Chuck had shown a keen interest in mechanics already, learning how to fix things—he didn’t do it anymore, but more than a few times, he’d followed Herc around attentively as he repaired this or that. That had changed recently, of course, but Chuck had always shown more of an interest in how things worked than even Herc did.

“Mako mentioned something this morning,” Stacker mused slowly. “She believes your son didn’t do anything meriting discipline.”

“Did she, now,” Herc murmured, taken aback. Stacker could almost see the way the other man turned it over in his mind, puzzled. “That’s surprising. She doesn’t care for Chuck’s temper much, herself.”

Stacker nodded, edging past Herc and navigating his way toward the living room. It hadn’t seemed abnormal that they hadn’t exactly made concrete plans for the day, nor even discussed coming over, hadn’t seemed odd at all until just then, and yet…. Just another little thing that Stacker made note of, another little thing to wonder about. He’d been noticing these things more and more over the last day or so, and he was oddly more alarmed by the fact that he _wasn’t_ alarmed than by anything else. Deliberately putting it out of his mind, he claimed a seat on the couch, waving off Herc’s wordless query about a drink. Instead, Herc joined him on the couch, positioned so he could watch the children in the yard. The two of them weren’t working together, necessarily, so much as just in the same vicinity, and Herc just closed his eyes and sighed.

“Perhaps I owe Miss Mori a word,” he mused, eyes still far away.

“What are you thinking?” Stacker asked, inclining his head just slightly.

“We both know one Mako Mori is wiser than her years,” Herc returned quietly, lips quirking in a slow smile. “She has no patience for Chuck’s attitude—so her helping him now…”

“You think she knows something we don’t know,” Stacker supplied, and Herc nodded. Reluctantly, Stacker admitted, “I didn’t give that much thought. She was right there… how is it you know my daughter’s mind better than I do?”

“How is it you can kick a ball around with my son and not have him aiming for another set of balls?” Herc returned. Despite himself, Stacker cracked a smile, and Herc protested, “Oi, that’s not funny. He’s got a hell of a shot.”

“Perhaps he took your philosophy of taking the shot a bit too literally?” Stacker asked archly—and Herc laughed. The sound was freeing, and Stacker’s solemn resolve cracked. Idly, he found himself thinking that laughter looked _good_ on Herc, and he blamed that tiny observation for the short circuit in his brain. Something clicked within his brain, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to shift closer on the couch. There was a pause, Herc’s blue eyes suddenly much closer; a flicker, something dawning in his eyes, and then Herc seemed to get with the program. He wasn’t sure who initiated it, but it was almost shockingly comfortable and _normal_ , and he closed his eyes and leaned in.

All of the tension from the morning fled in the face of this new development. Herc’s mouth was firm and strong, questioning at first but quickly melting into it. Stacker gently took charge, tilting his head for better access when Herc’s lips parted willingly. A hand rose to gently rest on his right shoulder, and his own hand drifted to find Herc’s knee in response. He pressed deeper, taking his time. It was horrifyingly cliché, but it felt like coming home, and Stacker couldn’t help seeking it out. He could feel the way Herc’s breath caught, the way the man pressed into his touch, fingers tightening into his shoulder—and the kiss grew heated, all hints of trepidation fading in the wake of deliberate certainty. This had been coming for some time—they were both here, and they were both on the same page. They balanced one another, in more ways than one, and Stacker had a gut feeling that this just might work; after all, weren’t they already raising their children together?

Stacker shifted closer, hand sliding up Herc’s thigh to his waist. He bit at Herc’s lip slightly, then retreated slowly to catch his breath. He hadn’t noticed his heart rate speeding up, nor the heat rising along the back of his neck, though he found he didn’t mind.

“If you have the shot…” Herc murmured, eyes searching Stacker’s. Stacker just nodded, very slightly, then smirked.

“Agreed.” He paused, then inclined his head toward the sliding glass door. Beyond it, the children were still weeding the yard; Mako was diligently tossing the dandelions into the bucket, while Chuck tossed them a little more angrily. He had yet to miss the bucket, of course, but the frustration was evident even from within the house. He exhaled, wondering just what they had missed. Mako had no patience for Chuck’s arrogance—mostly, she ignored his attitude, though more than once she’d very efficiently silenced him with a remark or two. For her to be aiding in Chuck’s punishment, however… that was something they hadn’t seen before.

“What are you thinking?” Herc asked, brow furrowing.

“I think it’s a lovely day,” Stacker said vaguely, trying to figure it out. Mako didn’t care for violence, and yet her insistence that Chuck hadn’t done anything wrong was more than a little perplexing. She had to have seen something that they had missed—though had either of them really given Chuck the chance to explain? The idea bothered Stacker, and he shifted to rise. “We shouldn’t be inside.”

As always, Herc was with him. He didn’t ask—didn’t need to ask. Instead, he wordlessly went to retrieve the ball while Stacker surveyed the children. This wasn’t over, of course; they would have to speak to the children, would have to define what had just happened, but those things would come. Instead, for the time being, there were more important things that needed doing.

In the yard, Chuck very resolutely never looked up as the adults came outside. Mako, however, looked up sharply, her dark eyes going wide as she took stock of Herc and Stacker. She caught sight of the ball cradled in Herc’s arms, eyes darting quickly to Stacker almost questioningly. His breath caught at the hope shining in her eyes, expression lighting up as he nodded to her. She smiled, clambering to her feet with an eagerness that made him grant her a tiny smile in response. Herc stayed just slightly off to the side, his own eyes fastened on Chuck. He looked uncertain, and Stacker just inclined his head ever so slightly toward the little boy still hellbent on ignoring them. Herc got the unspoken hint, rolling the ball gently toward his son.

Chuck jumped when the ball rolled into his side, whirling—and then freezing when he caught sight of the ball. The look on his face was almost comical as he stared at the ball, then up at his father. Suspicion flickered over his face, but not fast enough to mask the little glimpse of surprise.

“What’s this, then?” He demanded, scowling. “Thought I was s’posed to weed the stupid yard.”

Herc just inclined his head toward Mako and offered, “We’ll need you t’ even the teams up a bit, won’t we?”

The olive branch was awkward and stilted, a little unsure, but it was enough.   Chuck’s smile was still a little guarded, and he tried to hide it by ducking his head, but he slowly climbed to his feet. He hesitated, then toed at the ball as he glanced toward his father. Herc nodded to him, and Chuck nodded back before passing the ball over to Mako. To Stacker’s surprise, she handled the ball deftly, passing over to him with quick precision. He controlled the pass, then glanced up toward the children. With a pointed look, he sent them both scattering into the yard ahead of him, Herc at his side.

Stacker saw the shot, and never once hesitated.

He took it.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite disgustingly domestic, but I'm sure they'll get there. Obviously, there's a certain puppy named Max in their near future.
> 
> Written for Kuro49 for the Christmas Secret Santa exchange :) This kind of spiraled out of my control a bit, which is why it's so long, but I hope you enjoyed it. A little more gen than I was aiming for, and this is my first (published piece) for the PR fandom, so I hope you're not disappointed! Sorry Angela didn't really make an appearance
> 
> Feedback is adored and craved, so let me know what you think!


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